Fullmetal Genesis
by Cecil Kain Cerberus
Summary: What if Ed and Al never transmuted their mother? What if, while Father did indeed fail to contain the Truth, the Homunculus left the entire country to seven siblings? Decades later, under a homunculus controlled state, a rebellion begins to break through the darkness. Generations of trial and error are finally coming together, and now, a new era is about to rise.
1. Into Darkness

Darkness was all around, reaching into every corner, touching every living cell, filling it with night.

The tunnel was the perfect place to hide these menacing shadows. Hidden, away from the blasted sun and the glowing stars. Here, it was the perfect place to hold an interrogation without fear of interruption. After all, for many, the darkness frightened people.

For him, it was a welcomed haven. Silence surrounded him, stilling the air, the only noise to be heard was the constant dripping of a broken pipe nearby…

And their victim's howls, which certainly destroyed the sense of peace for everyone else around him.

"You sons of bitches! I'll fucking kill the whole lot of you! You hear me! I'll slaughter you, then I'll slaughter your families, starting with the old crones."

SLAP!

The sound of flesh striking flesh echoed throughout the tunnel, vibrating through the air like thunder. Bending over, a voice hissed in a low tone, "What makes you think we have any family?" The victim, a skinny, ratty looking man, red veins protruding from his pale skin, the broken hooked nose dripping snot to the ground below, flinched, a red palm mark clear on his cheek. The man was tied firmly to an old, rotten chair, large, heavy chains coiling around his black-cladded form. A green symbol of a dragon attempting to devour its own tail was branded on the man's shirt.

The emblem of Envy.

He narrowed his eyes at the man who had spoken, in turn narrowed his snake slit eyes back, growling numerous curses under his breath. The man was nothing special, wearing a raggy rusty colored trench coat, black shirt and baggy pants. His silver hair was chin length, his face handsome and stern. Gray eyes watched the victim like a hawk, never once flinched as the victim made his threats. Only hatred and anger resided in their dull depths.

Turning to the four other people behind him, he asked, "This homunculus is responsible for numerous crimes against humanity. Killing men, women, children in cold blood, stealing with the poor and hungry, and now he dares threaten what little family we have left. Tell me, does this thing deserve to live?"

All four cried out nay. One in particular, a young woman with raven locks and dark eyes, stepped forward, stating, "Personally, I would rather have ripped that damn stone out of its chest and burn it. But you've obviously have other plans." She didn't sound pleased, but the leader gave her a smile and nod, before turning back to address the man—no, the homunculus—once more, "As you can see, no one here is your friend. We are not afraid of you, and so, if you value your hideous hide, you'll be quiet, unless I ask you a direct question. If not, I'll personally rip out that stone of yours and degrade it to ash. Understand?"

The choke from the homunculus was loud. But the words that left his mouth next were even louder, almost filling the tunnel with slander. "You bastard! Don't think I'll take this! I'm gonna—"

"Kinda hard to do when you're sitting down, hmm?" The other four snickered at the comment. The one leading the charge, obviously proving himself a leader, smiled darkly in turn. The homunculus only cursed harder.

"You spineless bitch! Untie me so I can show just what a homunculus is capable of!"

"I'm sure not much, since you're tied up to begin with." The laughter was louder, and it only further rubbed salt until the homunculus's broken pride. "Bitch," the homunculus cried. "I'll fucking kill you!"

"Try me," he responded, snapping his fingers. The chains fell off, and the homunculus jumped, screaming with hatred. But he stepped to the side at the last minute, grabbing the homunculus's wrists, pulling them back, jerking the homunculus into a stand.

A foot suddenly planted itself into the homunculus's back, and one motion hit the floor hard, blood beginning to pool from the broken teeth. Red sparks leapt between the torn flesh, slowly melding the wound. Chuckling, the homunculus muttered, "You bitch. You got nothing against me. You're just a human. You're not immortal. You're nothing-!"

His taunt was cut short by a dagger impaling itself his lungs. The leader lowered his head, dark red locks brushing against the homunculus's dirty cheek as the lethal words were spoken;

"Do not underestimate a human, worm."

Jerking the homunculus to his feet, the leader released his wrists, only to grab his throat, slowly crashing his windpipe. The homunculus gasped, hands trying to claw the leader's hand away, only to be rewarded with a face full of wall. Coughing, the homunculus felt old wounds beginning to reopen. The stone didn't fuse with his body perfectly.

Sensing the fear growing inside the homunculus, the leader again addressed him. "So, now that we seem to be better behaved, let's start with the reason why you're still alive."

A cough came, serving as an answer. The leader frowned, keeping his hands on the homunculus's neck and the handle of the dagger. "Why are you here? What was your purpose in this city?"

The homunculus coughed blood, but said nothing. Then the leader caught the hint of a word, a curse perhaps. All the same, he dug the dagger deep into the homunculus, causing the latter to scream and howl harder.

The leader watched as blood continued to pool from the gaping wound in the homunculus's back. Finally, after a pregnant pause, the leader spoke, almost in an observational tone;

"You're not a complete homunculus, are you? Born a human, am I right?"

"I forsook your weak race," the homunculus growled. "I am Spite, the hatred that dwells in your soul. Nothing can purge me-*ACK!*"

"Nonsense," the leader stated calmly, twisting the knife further into Spite's back. "Spite, like any emotion, can be dismissed from the soul. One merely needs to choose. And like the emotion your name represents," a wicked grin appeared on the leader's clean-shaven face, twisting his handsome features into something ugly, "you too can be purged."

"It's pointless," Spite sneered. "I'll never sell my boss out. You get that, you bastard, I'll never ta—"

"That's too bad." In one smooth moment, a gun's safety was clicked off, and three bullets blasted through the homunculus's forehead. Groaning loudly as Spite recovered, the leader once more fired a bullet, this time into the creature's foot.

"Now, that I've made my point," the leader calmly stated, "I think we need to wrap this interrogation up. You have five seconds to answer my question. What. Were. You. Doing. Here?" Each pause brought a loud thunder of lead, shot after shot firing into some random part of the homunculus's anatomy.

The creature howled with each shot, shaking against the dagger still embedded in it. Finally, it fell, freeing itself from the object of torture and the shots. Panting, the injuries slowly, but surely, began to heal, closing the tears in the flesh. The leader circled his prey like a cat, ready to pounce and, it seemed, end it.

Watching the man through half-closed lids, the homunculus uttered a few more words, "Damn … human patriots … Deception will—"

That was the end of it. Removing the large spear-like weapon from the homunculus's gaping chest, a small red trinket embedded itself into the lance's blade. Jerking what seemed to be a small rock from the metal tip, the leader squeezed his hand, turning the stone into dust. The homunculus's body followed suit, turning into nothing but ash in the wind, leaving no traces behind.

A low whistle came from one member of the group. The woman who had spoken earlier gazed at the spot the homunculus once laid, muttered, "I wanted the final blow…"

The leader gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I'll let you get first dibs next time, okay?"

She harrumphed, but her lips were trying to twitch in a smile in her attempts of being serious. Finally, she whirled around, chortling to herself.

"Mustang."

She glanced back, seeing the leader staring into space. She turned completely turns him, asking, "Yes, William?"

"How long? How much longer must we reduce ourselves to this?"

There were no words leaving Mustang's mouth, because she didn't have an answer for William, rebel leader of the rag-tag Marauders of Humanity. Personally, she saw no harm in destroying these abominations, but even so, that's not entirely what William meant with the question.

It was a question he repetitively asked her, and still she had no answer. She tried to think of what he meant by the question, but she knew it wasn't the homunculus. But she also knew it had something to do with the homunculus, strange as it sounded.

Shaking her head in defeat, she replied, "I don't know, sir."

Turning away, one hand in his one-remaining pocket, William stated, "I'll need to leave the city again."

Mustang sighed. "Must you?"

Giving her a quick, tired smile, he replied, "Don't worry. I'll only be a little while. I just need to check on some things before we make our next move. We may not have gotten much from the homunculus, but there are other ways of getting information. You just need to know where to look for it.

* * *

The hallway was an entirely different scene than the dark sewage tunnel. Well-lit, tidy, normally active with Chimera guards and the family residences, today it was strangely quiet.

But the creature stalking through the hall didn't mind. All the better that he wasn't being watched; people made him nervous.

Appearing very human, the being only known as a homunculus trekked down the wide, long, seemingly endless hallway, dressed in a magenficent emerald robe, one arm free from the silk to swing freely by his side. The robe split apart at the thighs, revealing cotton, dark forest green trousers and bare feet. The homunculus's long, white hair billowed, strangled into a tight ponytail that hang down to his waist. His red eyes were narrowed, enraged, or perhaps impatient. One could never tell what this young homunculus was thinking, even with facial expressions.

Such a complicated creature Deception was. Son of the monster king Envy, created from a small piece of the Philosopher's Stone, Deception's purpose was, by Lust's standards, to serve and support his father, who seemed to losing his wit as of late.

Perhaps that was why he seemed so eager to get out that damned hallway and into the throne room! Lord knows the homunculus king was full of himself, and mazes inside his estate were expected.

Finally, Deception sees a sign of life. A large, bulky bear stood at gold-plated door, a large hammer in one paw, half its face riddled with claw markings.

The bear turned its head to face Deception. "Any word from Spite?"

"Of course," Deception snorted. "The fool is dead."

The bear arched an eyebrow. "So do you know, sire? If you don't mind my asking?"

Deception gave another rude snort in response before replying, "Spite is too damn prideful. If he hasn't spoken to us in a day, he's probably dead. Damn fool could never keep his mouth shut about anything."

"Right you are, sire." The bear used one large claw-like hand and rapped the door lightly. A cheerful, giddy voice answered, "Come in~"

Deception sighed loudly. The bear merely chuckled. "Your father awaits, sire."

"Thank you, Taylor." With that, the homunculus shoved through the door, leaving the Chimera guard behind.

Dressed as elegantly as his son, Envy the Jealous smirked, cradled in his massive throne, giving Deception a casual wave. "How goes things, dear son of mine?"

"Horrible," Deception snapped. "Dreadful, absolutely humiliating, Father. That new recruit is dead, I'm sure of it."

Envy arched an eyebrow, looking up into space. "Which one? I can never remember everyone, you know. Bad memory."

"Spite, Father. Spite. The one who you insisted wouldn't get into any trouble."

Envy's eyes widened. "Oh, that one." Giving his son a cheeky grin, he stated, "Well, now we know he's not capable and won't need to worry about it anymore."

Deception's shoulders slumped. "Really, Father. Why must you be this way?" It was spoken more towards himself than directed to Envy, so he quickly added, "There's also been at least two more raids to our factories. Twenty humans were released from the first, and the other led to one factory being utterly demolished."

"Oh, that's terrible."

"Terrible?! Father, do you have any idea what those rebel scum are doing to your kingdom?!"

Envy gave another cheeky grin. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about it. I've seen far worse long ago, and now's no different from then."

Deception looked desperate. "But Father, that human leading the group—"

Waving his hand dismissively, Envy stated, "Enough. I'm tired. Leave me so I can nap."

Deception uttered a curse, bowing stiffly before marching out of the throne room. The bear guard held up the door before stepping in. Behind a long, violet curtain, a wolf Chimera stepped out, dressed in black, a cloak hanging from his shoulders.

"My lord?" the wolf and bear asked. Envy gave each of them a careful look before commanding;

"Keep an eye on my son. I sense something … disturbing."

"Yes, sire."

* * *

_"Over two hundred years ago, two children made a different choice. Instead of resurrecting their mother, they lived peacefully in their village, living daily, hollow lives, trying to make the best out of the empty house they called home. Because of this, the creator of the seven deadly homunculi, completed his desire of becoming God. However, a single man stood in his way, and with the power of alchemy, returned the souls the monster had used to seal God._

_Unable to contain the Truth, the monster made one final thing in his last moments of despair. His children inherited the remaining bits of his power, and since then, they began a power struggle so massive, the entire continent was shaken. Amestris, Ishbval, Xing, no one was safe._

_Eventually, the homunculi assumed control over half of the governments. Loyalties were split; Lust and Gluttony working with Envy, Sloth disappearing into the mountains, never to be seen again, Greed alone in his stance, Wrath and Pride bickering for control of Central City. It seemed nothing could stop these power hungry immortals from what they desired, until recently._

_One single rebel group, spawned by the hopes and dreams of one, odd man. And now, they carry with them the hope and dream of the entire world."_


	2. Light Hearted

Mustang was having a bad day.

How so, you might ask? Could it be that the responsibilities of a leader finally getting to her? Or perhaps being trapped in an underground base depriving her of her precious oxygen? The worry of her leader's absence? The anger of not enough getting done to fight back the homunculi? The fear of being discovered by the enemies by one little slip-up?

Or maybe it could be the annoying voice pestering her to look at baby pictures again.

"Hughes, I have no inclination what's so ever to see another one of your nieces in a tutu, so please remove this blasphemy from my face this intent."

The said Hughes, a young woman a little older than Mustang, allowed a slight look of hurt to sweep over her face. "Oh, but Amber, you should really see this one! It's Tom-Tom in his jammies!"

"I already told you, no, I do not want to see these pictures!"

Amber Mustang, or just Mustang for short, was a small woman with black hair, cut short to barely brush her ears. Like much of the members of the human patriots, she wore baggy clothes, a long trench coat shielding her slight frame from the bitter cold in the tunnels, and a bandanna around the arm, a self-proclaiming symbol of independence from homunculi tyranny.

Grinding her teeth, she whirled around, pointing a finger at her obsessive companion. "I. Do not. CARE. If your little. Nephew. Wears a cape. And tries to impersonate. Armstrong. Leave me ALONE, Iris!"

Iris Hughes flinched slightly. She was taller than Mustang, a good half-a-foot taller, with shoulder length blond hair and small, cracked glasses resting on her slightly broken nose. Her physical appearance was similar to Mustang, skinny, knobby knees, bony, defined cheekbones, grim covering every inch of her figure until her skin tone looked almost Ishbalvan. Adjusting her glasses slightly, Hughes heaved a heavy sigh. "Well, if you want to be that way, that's fine." Turning around, she began to walk away.

Mustang breathed in relief. Finally, some peace and—

"I'll just set the pictures over here, okay?"

"Huh?" Mustang turned to see Hughes, grinning like an idiot, as always, taking duct tape out of her coat pocket and began taping the pictures all over her workspace. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Decorating," Hughes stated casually. "Your workspace is way too gloomy. Besides your unfinished paper, which, by the way, you need to finish, you have nothing else on it." Wincing, Hughes shook her head. "Not that's saying much."

Mustang snatched a picture from Hughes's hand. "Like I need your damn brats all over my workspace. Out! Out!"

Mustang began to shoo Hughes away before a towering figure dwarfed both women. They looked up in union, gapping as a tall woman with long blond hair, tied back in a knee-length ponytail, stood before them, her arms crossed in front of her well-developed chest.

"Hmph," the woman puffed. "Come now, you two! You are allies! Allies mustn't fight!"

Mustang and Hughes paused, looking at the woman. Hughes was about to open her mouth, when a young boy trotted in. "Mustang, William's back."

Removing her hands from Hughes' shoulders, Mustang ruffled her bangs out of her line sight. "Fine. Thank you, Elric. I'm assuming he's coming here?"

Elric grinned. Even shorter than Mustang, with pale gold hair and gold colored eyes, he seemed so out of place around the much older and taller members. "Yup. He's on his way now. I just took the shortcut, but I think it'll take him longer, since everyone's gonna try and see he went to."

"He won't tell them," Hughes chuckled mildly. "He likes being a mystery."

"So our leader has finally returned?" The woman suddenly flexed her arms, her tunic bursting off like a flurry of sparkles and shiny skin.

And no bra.

"ARMSTRONG!"

* * *

William stepped into the room, expecting Mustang to be at her desk, hovering over paperwork. Instead, he not only found Mustang, but Hughes and Elric holding down Armstrong, who seemed to have ripped off her shirt… again.

Will sighed. "Well, I wasn't expecting this of my own men."

"Sir!" Mustang was holding down the larger woman's arm down. "I'm sorry, but Armstrong –"

William burst out laughing, waving his hand to silence her. "It's alright, it's alright. Please, relax. Oh, and uh … Armstrong?"

The woman lifted her head from the ground. "Yes sir?"

"Please put a shirt on."

* * *

**I apologize for the short chapter, but I hope the slight bit of humor made up for it. ^-^**


End file.
